What Should Never Be
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Oneshot. No pairings. An encounter with a criminal leads to...his greatest wish being granted? Ed is confused. What's the catch? Where is Equivalent Exchange? Surely, all of this is too good to be true...


**Author's Note: This whole fic is a huge tribute to the show Supernatural. Because it's another story about two brothers who are best friends and would do anything for each other, just about every episode made me want to do a crossover fic that put the Elric brothers through the same things. But the episode that reached out and grabbed me and wouldn't let me go was episode 2x20, "What Is and What Should Never Be." For those who are familiar with the show, you'll no doubt remember the episode and recognize a lot of things I took from it. I did my best to make it different and believable, since things work differently in the FMA universe and the characters are quite different. If you're curious about any of my decisions in changing the plot of the episode, I'm happy to explain my thoughts. I've been working on this project since May, so I'm really excited it's done and I can finally share it with everyone! So put on some classic rock and enjoy the ride :D**

 _I hear the voices when I'm dreaming  
I can hear them say,  
"Carry on my wayward son,  
There'll be peace when you are done  
Lay your weary head to rest  
Don't you cry no more!"_

 _\- "Carry on Wayward Son" by Kansas_

"Yeah," Ed muttered as he crept along the shadowy, cobwebbed hallway. "Not creepy at all. So reassuring, Mustang."

The thought of Mustang assuring him the old Winchester house wasn't actually haunted stirred a fire in Ed's chest, so he pushed down his irrational uneasiness and continued on his way. The stupid idiot could smirk and mock all he wanted—Ed was the Full Metal Alchemist, and no amount of creaky floorboards and broken windowpanes was going to keep _him_ from doing his job. No matter that this was all striking a little too close to home for his liking.

Like, literally. The Rockbells' house was just on the next hill, and the burnt remains of the Elric house on the hill after that.

"Sure, Mustang," Ed muttered, easing the door to the cellar open and feeling for each step as he descended. "Nothing better to do. Just getting a new arm built entirely from scratch. Might as well work overtime even though I'm on paid leave, right?"

The only thing Ed didn't get was why Huang Li had picked the Winchester house, of all places, to hole up in. There were probably thousands of little hidey-holes in out-of-the-way towns like Risenpool, so why did he pick this ramshackle place? No one had lived there since the Winchesters had left generations ago. Nobody remembered who the Winchesters were, they just knew the place was haunted.

Obviously, Ed didn't believe in unscientific mumbo-jumbo like that, but he could see where people had gotten the idea. He sputtered as he ran face-first into a cobweb at the foot of the stairs, then started carefully forward into the darkness. How could they even be sure that Li was in here...?

Oh.

Heart pounding, Ed stared into the face of a corpse. It was probably little Tracie Spinner, the girl Mustang had told him about who'd gone missing last week. She wore a white dress with a wide red ribbon around the middle, and her blonde hair hung down in twin braids. She matched the description perfectly, except that her skin was grey and lifeless, her cheeks sunken, her eyes staring and her mouth sagging open.

And she dangled from the ceiling by her wrists. That was probably important.

Suddenly, irrationally, he wished Al was here. He'd assured his brother that he didn't need any help checking the place out, so Al had stayed behind to relax with the Rockbells. Though Ed hated the thought of Al seeing this pitiful corpse, the steadying presence of the towering suit of armor would have been such a comfort.

Swallowing a huge, painful lump, Ed tore his eyes away from the little girl. But when he looked to the left, a ragged gasp escaped him. He shouldn't have been surprised. His brilliant mind should have put two and two together as soon as he saw the girl's body, but his brain was moving at a sluggish pace. Mustang had told him that Tracie Spinner wasn't the only girl to have gone missing recently. Huang Li was the obvious suspect. He should have realized.

Four more girls hung in a grisly row, all of them strung up by their wrists like Tracie. Amid the fog of horror in his brain, Ed vaguely noted a few common threads between the five victims. Though their clothes indicated some discrepancy in how well off their families were, they all seemed to be the same age, and they all had braided hair. Plus they were all dead.

The scrape of a shoe against the floor snapped him out of his shock. Ed whirled around, raising his left hand before he remembered that he couldn't clap. He reached for the knife Al had insisted he bring with him, but before his fingers could close around the handle, he found himself staring at a thin, wiry man. His flowing clothes and narrow features identified him as Xingese, but Ed didn't have time to notice anything else before the man raised his hands. Ed briefly noticed the marks tattooed onto the man's palms—like alchemy, but twisted—before they clamped around his head. Ed frantically tried to claw the man's hands off, but they glowed with warmth against his skin and his vision immediately blurred. Fighting to keep the man's eager expression in focus, Ed felt his knees buckle and everything went dark.

* * *

Ed woke with a start, shooting up to a sitting position with a gasp. For a few wild moments, he wasn't sure where he was, couldn't remember how he'd gotten there... But then he remembered the Xingese man grabbing his head and starting some kind of transmutation. Ed scowled at the foot of the bed he sat in. Definitely Huang Li.

Wait. Bed? Ed looked around again, taking in the room around him. At first he thought he was back in his and Al's room at the Rockbells', but the room was smaller, and there was only one bed in it. Bookshelves crowded every wall, leaving barely enough room for the dresser, bed, and a cluttered desk under a window. Ed looked out the window and caught his breath. He knew that view. The leafy branches framing that particular curve of the hill, and the mountains beyond, were so familiar...

Slowly, Ed got out of bed and looked around the room again, squinting to hide the unfamiliar layout of the room and overlap his memories on top of it. But yes, the more he looked, the more sure he was that this was _his_ room. His and Al's. Not the guest room they always appropriated while visiting the Rockbells. This was a room that no longer existed, in a house they'd burned down four years ago.

And then he heard a call from downstairs that pierced straight through his heart. "Ed! Your breakfast is ready!"

He stood there for a moment, unable to think, unable to breathe. Numbly, he crossed the room and reached out for the doorknob. When his right hand closed around it, he jumped and pulled his hand back as though it had been burned. For a full minute, he stared dumbly at his hand.

It was real. Not unfeeling automail. Real flesh and blood. His palm was still cool from the touch of metal.

He quickly glanced down at his feet, and sure enough—both of them were flesh and blood as well. He pulled up the left leg of his pajamas just to be sure, and there wasn't even a scar.

"What. The hell. Is going on." Ed ran a distracted hand through his hair, only to stop in surprise again. His bangs were still long and hung in his face like always, but the rest of his hair was cut short. No thick braid resting against the back of his neck. Not even a messy ponytail, or long tangled locks that got everywhere. Ed frowned to himself. As much as he always complained about how much time it took to take care of so much hair, he felt strangely naked without it now. Besides, the braid was cool.

"Ed?" the voice called again, and he started out of his daze.

Once again, he opened the door to his room and stepped out into the hallway. Every step he took down the hallway to the stairs was so wonderful it almost hurt. Everything was exactly like he remembered it from his childhood. Even the smell was the same. The stairs creaked the way he remembered, the well-worn wood of the floor was smooth and comforting against his bare feet.

Then he stepped through the doorway to the kitchen and stopped short. At the stove, pushing the eggs and bacon around on the skillet, stood a woman Ed hadn't seen for _ten years._ Her brown hair hung over one shoulder in a loose ponytail like always, and she wore a clean white apron over a flowered dress just like he remembered.

Trisha Elric turned to look at him with a smile. " _There_ you are, sleepyhead! I told you not to stay up so late, or you'll sleep your whole weekend away!"

He finally remembered how to breathe, but the air stung painfully in his throat, and his vision began to blur. Hastily, he blinked to clear his vision, barely even noticing the tears rolling down his cheeks. "Mom...?"

Instantly, her smile fell into a look of concern. "What's wrong, Ed?" she asked, crossing over to him and cupping his cheek in her hand. "Do you feel all right?"

There was no way this could be real. He didn't understand. "But...you're not dead?"

She stiffened in shock, then pulled him into a tight, warm embrace. "Oh, honey..."

A sob ripped out of his throat before he could stop it. It had been so _long_ since anyone had held him like this, so soft and warm and comforting. He buried his face in her shoulder and clung to her with all of his strength, unable to stop shivering. With every breath, her familiar scent washed over him—the mingled scent of the flowery soap she used on the laundry, and the smell of fresh bread and cookies and savory stew with all the right spices...

It said _mother._ It said _I will hold you._ And no one said that anymore.

"Shhh," Trisha soothed, rubbing and patting his back in a pattern he'd never realized he missed. "It's okay, Ed. It was just a nightmare..."

A nightmare? Was that really what it was? Had he just dreamed that his mother had died and he and Al had...? "You were dead," he choked out, gripping her harder. "And Al and I...we were alone. And I was so...so _lonely_ and _scared—_ "

"It's over now," Trisha whispered. She kissed the top of his head and drew back just far enough to look him in the eye. Startled, he realized that tears shimmered in her eyes as she smiled gently at him. "It was just a dream, see? I'm still alive, and I'm not going anywhere." She wiped away his tears with the corner of her apron, then just looked at him with a little smile. "Ed, I'm glad you told me—"

Suddenly they both became aware of the sharp smell of smoke. "Oh no!" Trisha cried, leaping for the bacon and eggs steadily turning to charcoal in the skillet. "I'm burning your breakfast!"

* * *

While he ate buttered toast and a banana (his backup breakfast after Trisha had decided the mess in the skillet was inedible), Ed couldn't stop staring at his mother. She hummed softly while she washed the dishes, the morning sunlight casting a soft glow on her brown hair, making a golden halo around her silhouette.

Out of nowhere, Trisha asked, "Are you going on a date with Winry tonight?"

Ed choked on his toast and coughed until he downed an entire glass of orange juice. All he managed to gasp out was, "Winry is _not_ my girlfriend!"

Trisha turned around with a look of concern. "Oh, honey, did you two break up again? Is that what's got you so out of sorts this morning?"

She probably could have cooked more eggs and bacon on his face. "I...Wha...Nnn..."

With a sympathetic smile, Trisha turned back to the dishes. "You two have always butted heads, but you need to learn to keep your anger in check and resolve your differences. I know it's hard to adjust to this change in your relationship, when you've known each other your whole lives. But it's a relationship worth fighting for. I think you two are perfect for each other."

"Uh...yeah. Whatever." Ed ducked his head and shoved more toast in his mouth, trying not to think about it. There were more important things to figure out, like what the hell had _happened._

Everything in Ed's scientific brain reached for some kind of rational explanation. He could definitely remember his mother dying, failing to bring her back, losing his limbs. He remembered getting automail, becoming a State Alchemist, and going on all sorts of adventures. And yet...he couldn't get past what his senses were telling him. The food in his mouth was definitely real, the table underneath his elbows felt solid. And Trisha Elric was definitely standing there, real and alive. Had he really just imagined all of that? Or...was there some other explanation?

Once, shortly before his mother had fallen ill, he'd gotten into a huge fight with Winry about something or other, and he'd yelled, _I wish you were dead!_ Trisha had pulled him aside, and told him sadly, _Be careful what you wish for._ She'd made him apologize, and that had been the end of it. Nothing had happened, but Ed could still remember the nightmare he'd had that night, that Winry had drowned and it had been all his fault.

It was stupid that he was even considering it...but what if his wish had come true? Because if there was one thing he'd wished for a million times every day for years...it was this, right here.

It was almost too good to be true. Ed wondered if he was just being cynical, but he kept trying to figure out what the catch was. Was this all going to twist into one of his horrible nightmares, worse than any other for just how vivid it all was? Was he going to discover that he'd given up something irreplaceable to get here?

And that's when it hit him: Something was missing from this picture of paradise. A cold, sick weight twisted his gut. How could he have ignored it for so long? His bedroom only had one bed. Trisha was only washing the frying pan and her own dishes.

"Mom?" he said slowly, shakily. "Where's Al?"

Trisha turned in surprise, drying a plate. "What do you mean, honey? Where do you think he is?"

With a loud scrape, Ed shot to his feet. He gripped the edge of the table, trying to swallow with a mouth suddenly gone dry. The world was shifting horribly under his feet. He was about to hear that Al was dead, that this was the price for his own happiness. Trisha cocked her head to one side, watching him with concern. Ed cleared his throat, tried to speak, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Mom...is Al...?"

Then the screen door leading into the backyard screeched open and a boy about Ed's age stepped in, carrying a basket full of eggs and a pail of milk. He was so _tall,_ so grown up and healthy and _real,_ that it took a moment before Ed even recognized him. But there was no mistaking that warm, bright smile, the soft golden eyes, the hair cropped short with the same cowlick he'd had all his life. All the baby fat had fallen from his cheeks, and there was no mistaking how strong and fit he was. He was only fourteen, but he looked so _grown up._

"Here, Mom," he said casually, setting the eggs and milk on the counter. "Sorry it took so long-"

"AL!" Ed launched himself at his brother, hugging himself as tightly as he could, squeezing his eyes shut and silently begging any higher power that might be listening that this wasn't just a dream. But Al was _real;_ he could feel his warmth and the beat of his heart. He could smell his sweat and another scent he couldn't believe he'd forgotten, just the faintest hint of _something_ that told him without a doubt this was his little brother. "You're real," he whispered, tears stinging his eyes.

"Um...okaaaay." Al awkwardly patted him on the back a couple times and then pushed on his shoulders until Ed drew back a little.

Reluctantly, Ed let go, grinning up at Al. He didn't care how this had happened; he was going to savor every moment. Unfortunately, Al didn't look like he agreed. He was staring at Ed like he was crazy. "Uh...you okay?"

"Yep," Ed said brightly. "Never been better."

"Okay." Al glanced awkwardly between Ed and Trisha, who was also watching Ed with confusion. "Um...shopping list?"

"Here," Trisha said, pulling it out of her apron pocket.

"I'll go too!" Ed said eagerly, grabbing the list before Al could. He wanted to spend every possible moment he could with him.

Al frowned, grabbing the other end of the list. "Why? I'll be fine on my own. Like always."

"I just want to help," Ed said, stubbornly holding onto his end.

Rolling his eyes, Al let go and raised his hands in surrender. "Suit yourself, Ed."

He stood rooted to the spot, staring horrified into space, while the others talked and went about preparing the milk and eggs to be taken into town. Al's words echoed again and again in his mind. _Ed._ Such an innocuous word, that would go without notice if anyone else said it to him. Probably it wouldn't be weird for anyone else to call his brother by name. No one would think anything of it.

But Al never called him anything but _Brother._

* * *

The silence between them was a little awkward, but Ed tried not to let it bother him. He focused on enjoying the bright, sunny day and the familiar path down to the village. How many times had he and Al walked down this path to get groceries? He thought he could probably find his way in his sleep.

Ed also kept stealing sidelong glances at Al. He couldn't help it. That was _Alphonse Elric,_ fourteen years old and _not_ just an empty suit of armor. He looked so much like Ed's memories, but also so different. He walked the same way, a gait Ed realized he could recognize even in the way the suit of armor moved. But there was none of the careful timidity Al sometimes showed as a suit of armor, as if afraid he would break anything he touched. This Al was confident and casual, the way he remembered. It was only now that they were both whole again that Ed realized how broken they'd become. Both of them had had to relearn how to make even the most basic of movements, and they always had to take care with their clumsy artificial bodies.

There were a thousand questions Ed wanted to ask, but he knew better than to voice them. They were all things he was supposed to already know: what year Al was in school, what he wanted to do when he grew up, who he had a crush on (because if Al could develop crushes as a hormone-free suit of armor, there was no way he didn't have one now), and what hobbies he had. Where would their lives have led them if they'd never lost their mother?

So the walk continued in silence until they reached the village. Everyone else seemed mostly the same as Ed was used to, though everyone seemed to comment on his presence in the marketplace. People would say things like, "Long time no see, stranger!" or "Finally managed to drag your brother's nose out of his books, eh Alphonse?" Ed just laughed and joked back as they made their purchases, but the frequency of their comments made him wonder.

"Sheesh," Ed said, glancing over his shoulder as they finally left the market, their baskets heavily laden with groceries. "You'd think I'd never been shopping before."

"First time I've known you to lift a finger to help," Al grumbled under his breath.

Ed looked at him, affronted. "What? I help out plenty!" It seemed like he got sent down to do the shopping every time he came back to Risenpool for maintenance, at least when he could walk. "It's not like you could manage with all of this on your own anyway!" He lifted the basket full of produce and the paper bag from the butcher's to illustrate.

With an irritated shake of his head, Al said, "And yet I somehow manage on my own every week."

"Really?" Ed stared at the dirt path passing by beneath his feet. What was wrong with him in this reality? "I'm sorry, Al. I'll try to do better."

"Right," Al said shortly. "Just try not to put yourself out too much."

Ed let Al draw a little ahead and watched him sadly. Al had been angry with him dozens of times, but rarely had his voice been so cold.

* * *

He tried to be good the rest of the day. He helped put the groceries away, chopped firewood before Trisha could even ask, and weeded the garden. Al went off to take care of the cow and chickens that lived in a small barn that Ed was pretty sure had never been there in his memories. Ed wasn't sure whether he was disappointed or relieved that he couldn't spend time with Al while they worked.

By the time their chores were done, it was already time to wash up for dinner. At first, Ed could only focus on the food. Trisha had made a dish of chicken and rice that Ed had completely forgotten about, but as soon as the taste hit his tongue, he had to fight back tears because of how _familiar_ it was. He still got good home cooking every now and then in his travels as a State Alchemist, usually from Granny Pinako or Mrs. Hughes, and even though their cooking was great...it just wasn't the same. No one could make food like his mother. It was like she had some kind of special ingredient that made everything from her kitchen taste amazing.

But once he'd emerged from his own thoughts, he realized that his mother was struggling to keep up a pleasant conversation. Ed and Al answered her questions naturally, but Al seemed rather awkward and avoided looking at Ed. Ed frowned, but didn't bring it up until after they'd all had a slice of chocolate cake. When they got up to clear off the table, Ed insisted that he and Al wash the dishes.

Once Trisha thanked them and left to listen to the radio in the living room, the kitchen became quiet again. Al seemed perfectly content to dry dishes in a stony silence, but Ed cleared his throat and tried his hardest to strike up a conversation. "So...what're you doing tonight?"

Al gave him an odd look. "Homework, I guess. Why?"

Ed shrugged, trying to look casual as he scrubbed at a pot. "I dunno. I just...thought maybe we could do something together."

"Why?"

Ed looked up in surprise. Out of all the times he'd suggested that he and his brother do something, he didn't think Al had _ever_ responded that way. It was always _Yeah! o_ r _No, I don't really want to right now,_ or _Why don't we do this instead._ There was never a question as to _why_ they would spend time together, why they wouldn't be joined at the hip, why they wouldn't tell each other everything that happened in their lives and go to each other for advice and support and encouragement...

"Because we're brothers. Because you're my best friend, and I want to spend time with you." He couldn't believe he had to spell this out for _Al,_ of all people.

Al set down the pot he'd just picked up and closed his eyes briefly. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and then he said, "Look...I don't know what you're trying to do with this whole...buddy-buddy thing, but it's not going to work." He met Ed's surprised gaze unflinchingly. "It's way too late for that now. We're _not_ best friends, and we're never going to be. End of story."

"What did I do?" Ed whispered in horror, watching as Al dried the pot with impatient, jerky motions. "What did I ever do to deserve-"

"What did you _not_ do?" Al retorted, slamming the pot down and glaring at him. "You always have to take the limelight—Edward Elric, the genius who graduates high school at the age of twelve and spends every day studying for the State Alchemist exam so he can run off and be the hero and get even _more_ fame, while _I_ have to stay here and help Mom keep food on the table!"

For an insane moment, Ed wanted to burst out laughing. He was fifteen, and couldn't even pass the State Alchemist exam yet? But then, if Trisha hadn't died, they probably wouldn't have gone off to train with Izumi... And a lot of the reason he'd been able to become a State Alchemist in the first place was because he'd seen the Truth. And of course he wouldn't have seen it if their mother had never died.

But Al wasn't finished listing his grievances yet. "I don't know if you can understand this, _Edward,_ but it _hurts_ to always be cast in your shadow. To be compared to you, and found lacking. To have people think of you as the _dumb_ brother, the _plain_ brother, just because I'm not as good as you!"

Ed clenched his fists in the dishwater. He wanted to punch every last person who had ever said that. "That's not true! You're just as smart as me, and you beat me in every fight! And with alchemy—"

"Alchemy." He spat out the word like a curse. "I should've known it would come back to that. That's the only thing you care about, isn't it?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Well, it's the only thing you _talk_ about." He gave Ed a dark look and tossed the dish towel onto the table. "You know why I stopped studying it, right? Because I realized that's why I would always be shoved to one side. It's why you were Dad's favorite, and I _know_ it's why you're Mom's favorite!"

Ed jerked as if Al had slapped him in the face. "Al...you know that's not true. Mom loves you too..."

"Yeah," Al said as he left the kitchen. "But not as much as you."

* * *

Ed cleaned up the rest of the kitchen by himself, Al's words echoing in his head over and over. He'd always wondered if his little brother felt that way, resentful of the spotlight Ed was always in because he was the State Alchemist, and even because of his personality. And now...he knew. Al hated his guts and couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him for long.

With a sad smile, Ed switched off the kitchen light and headed for the living room. If the price he had to pay for Al and their mother to live full, happy lives was the bond he shared with Al...it was still worth it. It didn't matter if Al hated him. Ed would do whatever was best for Al. That's what love was about, after all.

Heart heavy, Ed stepped into the living room. Trisha sat in her favorite armchair with her feet propped up, fast asleep. Ed grabbed a blanket slung over the back of the couch and gently draped it over her, tucking it in carefully so as not to wake her up. He crossed the room to switch off the radio, but halted with his hand on the dial. The announcer's words that had been mumbling along in the background suddenly registered in his mind.

"Violence continues to escalate in the east as military troops seek to suppress the Cornello cult in Lior," the reporter said briskly, as though merely reading a report. "What initially appeared to be a harmless religious movement has recently turned to guerilla warfare. In support of their belief that Cornello is the voice of the sun god Leto, the townspeople of Lior have incited a massive coup that daily draws more supporters to its cause. In a press conference yesterday, General Hakuro stated that 'every measure is being taken to deal with this insurrection in such a way as to reduce civilian casualties as much as possible, but when even housewives take up arms against the government, they must be treated as enemies of the state.'"

Ed listened in horror as the reporter continued to tell the gruesome story of what was happening in Lior. _But...I stopped Cornello!_ he thought desperately. _I showed everyone that his miracles were just alchemy, and showed them how to seek the truth on their own!_ Except...he hadn't. Not in this version of reality. He wasn't a State Alchemist, he'd never set out in search of the Philosopher's Stone, so he'd never been to Lior. He'd never exposed Cornello's lies, never turned Rose's life around. And because he hadn't been there to stop it all...hundreds of people were dying _right now._

And what about all the other missions he'd undertaken in his three years as a State Alchemist? What about the lives he'd saved, criminals he'd stopped, atrocities he'd kept from happening? Without him, maybe Yoki was still swindling money from the Youswell miners. Or maybe the people had revolted and been put down by the military. Maybe the Blue Squad Rebels had successfully hijacked that train and injured innocent civilians.

His next thought sent him reeling into the hall, barely reaching the bathroom before he was violently sick. _And Nina is probably in some awful lab right now. If she's even alive._ He and Al hadn't been able to do much for her as it was—they hadn't prevented Tucker from turning her into that horrible _thing,_ nor had they prevented her death. But now Tucker was probably still sitting comfortably in his mansion in East City, lauded as a man who could do the impossible—rather than facing the firing squad for what he'd done.

As he gripped the edge of the toilet and sobbed into his own vomit, he wondered if any of this was worth it. Yes, he had his family back. His mother wasn't dead, and Al didn't have to suffer in a body that only held the barest semblance of being human. He would never have to feel the pain of automail again. He could live the normal life he'd always longed for.

But he'd never saved those people. He'd never met any of the friends he'd made on his long journey. If he called up Mustang on the phone, the man would have no idea who he was. He could pass the Hugheses on the street without any of them giving him a second glance. No one would remember the way he'd touched their lives—and in this reality, none of them had touched his. He'd never realized how much he cared about them all, but now that he faced losing them...he felt so alone. In this world, no one would ever really know him, because every monumental trial and piddling annoyance had shaped who he was today.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet and cleaned up after himself. He gazed at his pale but determined face in the mirror, and nodded. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

Sneaking out of the house was a lot harder than Ed remembered. Somehow, squeezing through the window and crawling along the bit of roof directly underneath it had been a lot easier as a kid. He and Al had snuck out so many times to go stargazing on warm summer nights, but it was weird not having Al by his side now. He kept glancing over his shoulder as if expecting to see someone crawling along at his side, or down at the ground to see if a familiar suit of armor was waiting patiently to catch him.

As it was, he dropped onto the pile of firewood with a louder clatter than he'd been expecting. After cringing at the noise and waiting to make sure no one had heard it, he carefully picked himself up and rounded the house to the front yard. He had just slipped through the gate when someone behind him said, "Where are you going at this time of night?"

He whirled around to see Al standing right behind him, arms crossed disapprovingly. "Why do you care?" Ed demanded before he could think better of it.

"Because if you're the one who's been stealing the Arbels' chickens, I'm going to have to do something about it."

"You think I'm—" Ed quickly bit his lip and forced himself to keep quiet. It wouldn't do any good to wake their mother up. "It's...an alchemy thing. You wouldn't get it."

Al raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you try to keep your amazing alchemy skills a secret from _anyone?_ " Then comprehension dawned on his face. "Oh, I get it. You're sneaking out to meet up with Winry, aren't you?"

Thankfully, the darkness hid his burning cheeks. He tried not to sound guilty as he spluttered, "Wh-Why would I have to do that? It's not like it's a secret we're going out, right?" He made a mental note to punch Al for making him say that. Thankfully, Winry would never know...

Ed moved to leave again, but Al grabbed his arm. "No, really," he said, his voice more serious than ever. "Tell me what's going on."

His eyes were almost luminous in the moonlight, as if they were miniature lanterns. Ed wanted to tell him everything, to share all of the fears and confusions he'd faced in the past twenty-four hours. He wanted it to be like it had always been with Al—nothing held back, nothing hidden. He wanted Al to listen, to care, to call him _Brother..._

With a sigh, he turned away. "You'd think I was crazy if I tried to explain. It's just...a mistake I have to fix."

This time, when Ed stepped onto the dirt road, Al didn't try to stop him. But he'd only taken a few steps when he looked up and realized Al was walking by his side. "What? Why are you following me?"

" _Someone_ has to bail you out if you get in trouble."

Ed gave him a sidelong look. "I thought you didn't even _like_ me."

"But you're still my brother."

* * *

"So...let me get this straight," Al said slowly as they came to a stop. "This guy did some kind of alchemy and you...fell through a dimensional rift?"

Ed shivered, wishing he had his warm red coat with him. "Don't look at me like that. I don't get it either, all right? I don't know what happened...but it all comes down to Equivalent Trade. If I can find any trace of Huang Li in here, I may be able to reverse the process."

"Right. Or maybe you've just gone completely delusional and I need to find out where the nearest mental hospital is."

Shooting a withering look in his brother's direction, Ed led the way into the house. It was just as spooky and abandoned as it was in the other reality. He didn't really expect to find Huang Li himself in here, but he kept all of his senses alert for movement just in case. Just because he wasn't a State Alchemist didn't mean the criminals of this world would stop their activities.

They made a beeline for the basement and crept down the creaky stairs as quietly as they could. And in the middle of the basement, they saw exactly what Ed had been hoping they wouldn't: the same row of girls' bodies, strung up and dangling. Tracie Spinner hung on the end, eyes staring forward.

"What...?" Al stumbled backwards, gaping at the five girls hanging by their wrists from the ceiling. "What is this? What's going on?"

But Ed clapped a hand over Al's mouth and dragged him back into the shadows. Al struggled at first, but Ed shoved him down behind a pile of dusty boxes and nodded pointedly towards the middle of the room. The sound of footsteps echoed around the room, accompanied by the sound of squeaking metal. Then Huang Li stepped out of the shadows, pushing a rickety wheelchair in front of him.

What sat in the wheelchair...wasn't human. At least, Ed _hoped_ it wasn't human. It looked kind of like the remains of the failed human transmutation of Rosalie Humbergang—like a desiccated, mummified corpse. This one had retained its features a little better than Rosalie. Its skin was dry and grey, but its face looked almost alive. It still had eyeballs and its nose and lips hadn't sunken in. Truth be told, it just looked like a little girl who had recently died. Its black hair looked stringy and brittle, but was pulled into a braid that hung over one shoulder. Ed could tell from its eyes and the style of its dress that it had been a Xingese girl, and he glanced between it and Huang Li.

Huang Li reached into the shadows behind Tracie Spinner's body, pulling out what looked like an IV sack attached to Tracie's neck. Ed had failed to notice it before in his brief scrutiny because of the position of Tracie's arms stretched above her head. It was hard to tell in this dim light, but Ed was pretty sure that the IV bag wasn't full of medicine or a saline solution. It looked like blood.

Pulling out a second tube attached to Tracie's blood, Huang Li gently placed it between the lips of the girl in the wheelchair. Slowly, methodically, he pumped the bag of blood so that it trickled down the tube and into the girl's mouth. Al shifted slightly, mouth still covered by Ed's hand. Ed watched silently, not making a sound, but he felt sick. So this was what had been going on right in his own backyard. Even in the other reality, he hadn't been able to save any of these girls.

But as he watched the blood slowly flow from Tracie's neck into the girl's mouth, he realized something that was both horrifying and relieving: Tracie was still alive. Her heart must still be beating, pumping her blood until eventually Huang Li would drain it all out for whatever sick experiment he was doing. There was still a chance for her.

After what felt like an eternity, Huang Li pulled the tube from the girl's lips and pushed the wheelchair back into the shadows. They waited until they were sure he was gone, and then Ed rushed from the shadows to Tracie's side. Al hurried at his side, hissing, "Ed, this is so messed up! We need to get _out_ of here, _now!_ "

Ignoring him, Ed felt Tracie's neck until he found her weak, erratic pulse. As gently as he could, he pulled the needle from the vein in her neck. "Tracie, can you hear me?" he asked, touching her cheek and looking into her gaping eyes. She was as cold as ice, but at his touch, her eyes shifted slightly. Her dry, cracked lips parted and she croaked out, "Daddy...? Where's my daddy...?"

"Don't worry, Tracie," Ed whispered. "We'll get you home real soon, just hang in there, okay?" He clapped his hands and hunted around until he found an old shovel to transmute into a knife.

As Ed sawed away at the rope binding Tracie's wrists, Al said, "Okay, we'll rescue her, but we need to get away while we still can! We need to go to the police! This guy's a psychopath!"

Ed heartily agreed, but as he cut Tracie down and let Al catch her, he found his eyes drawn to the space next to Tracie. Now that he was close enough, he realized there was another IV set up next to a rope dangling in empty space. The IV bag looked full.

"What're you waiting for?" Al hissed at the foot of the stairs, Tracie in his arms. "Come on, let's go!"

"Wait..." Ed squinted at the empty rope and the full IV, feeling a weird sense of deja vu. Or like he was trying to remember a dream that threatened to slip between his fingers. "What if... _I'm_ here too?"

Al's expression grew more and more concerned. "What are you talking about?"

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. "I'm dreaming. This is all a dream. He did some kind of alchemy on me, and the next thing I knew I was waking up here. So...what if he caught me...and I'm actually tied up right here?"

Al carefully laid Tracie down on the bottom step and walked up to him, grabbing his shoulders and forcing them to look each other in the eye. "Ed. This is _not_ a dream. This is _really_ happening, _right now,_ and we need to get _out_ of here. There is no other dimension, there is no dream. You're just confused. Feel that?" He tightened his grip on Ed's shoulders till it was almost painful. "That's real. _I'm_ real. So forget about your other dimension, okay? Just come home."

He almost gave in, but something in the back of his mind resisted. Maybe it was something in Al's eyes, maybe it was just his scientist mindset that demanded he question and confirm everything. But he thought about it again...and it just made too much sense. "That's what he does," Ed muttered. "It's like anesthetic, only more powerful."

Al drew back. "What are you talking about?"

"All of this...it's like my greatest dream come true." He took in every detail of Al's human form again. "Mom being alive, you having a body again. No automail, no military..." He smiled sadly. "It's just too good to be true. That must be how Huang Li keeps his victims sedated. Somehow his alchemy affects brain waves, so they're caught in a dream of their greatest desires come true. And while they're in that state..."

"Ed, listen to yourself," Al interrupted. "This doesn't make sense! How could you be dreaming all of this up? No dream would be this vivid!"

But Ed was too busy thinking to listen to him. "They say that if you're about to die in a dream...you wake up."

Al's eyes widened in horror. "What? No!"

But he was too slow. Ed raised the knife still in his hand and stabbed himself in the neck.

* * *

A burst of pain in his neck and a burst of noise in his ears brought Ed to sudden, gasping consciousness. "Brother!" someone yelled right in his face. "Brother, can you hear me?"

Ed blinked, and the fuzzy shapes in his vision gradually settled into the achingly familiar helmet belonging to his brother. He never thought he'd be so happy to see that suit of armor again. "Al..." His eyes stung, but not many tears filled them. His throat felt dry and scratchy, and all of his limbs felt stiff. All three of them. He never thought he'd be happy to only have one arm, either.

"It's okay," Al said with a trembling voice, sounding like he needed reassuring as much as Ed did. "You're going to be okay, Brother. I'm going to get you out of—"

"Al!" Ed yelled, feeling as though his throat was ripping in two.

The warning gave Al barely enough time to dump Ed unceremoniously on the ground and turn to face Huang Li's attack. The Xingese man came whirling out of the shadows, spinning in the dance of a martial art completely unfamiliar to them. Al backed up, blocking each attack and drawing Huang Li away from Ed.

It took a surprising amount of effort to push himself up to a sitting position. He tried to keep an eye on the fight, but he also glanced around to see where they were. As he expected, he found himself on the end of the grisly line of Huang Li's victims, right next to Tracie Spinner. After a few moments' search, Ed managed to find a pulse in her foot. _Good, she's still alive._

A blue flash of alchemy brought Ed's attention swiftly back to the fight. The electricity fizzled away against Al's armor, ineffective without being able to touch the skin. But Ed didn't want to find out what would happen if Huang Li touched Al's blood seal. He looked down at his single hand in frustration. How could he have been so stupid as to go hunting for trouble when he was down to one arm? He was far too weak to fight, and he couldn't even do alchemy like this...

He focused on the floor behind his hand, which was wet with the blood leaking from the needle that had been stuck in his neck. Swiftly, he drew a circle and slammed his one hand on top of it. Drawing the iron from all the blood around him, he created a dozen sharp projectiles that shot straight for Huang Li. Several missed, bouncing harmlessly off Al's armor. The rest hit true. Huang Li fell at Al's feet. Al quickly sketched a circle to restrain Huang Li, then rushed over to Ed.

"Brother! Are you okay? No, I guess that's a stupid question..."

Ed smiled weakly as Al effortlessly picked him up. "I'm so glad to see you, Alphonse."

* * *

Winry had confined him to bedrest on pain of wrench to the head until his automail was finished, but even though he complained to keep up appearances, Ed was secretly grateful. Even though Huang Li hadn't held him for long, his experience in the basement had left him feeling weak and shaken. He was glad for the excuse to rest until he got his strength back.

He looked up as Al sidled into the room. "How's Tracie doing?"

Al sat down in the chair next to Ed's bed. "The doctors want to keep her in the hospital for the rest of the week to make sure she gets hydrated properly, but they're sure she'll make a full recovery." He looked down at his hands clasped in his lap. "Psychologically...it'll take longer."

Ed swore softly, hoping all the worst for Huang Li in whatever prison they tossed him into.

"You heard what they found out, right?" Al said. "Huang Li's daughter died last year, right before he disappeared. He must have tried to bring her back, and was keeping her alive that way for months."

"That _thing_ wasn't alive, Al," Ed said softly. "It wasn't her. It was just a shell." He thought for a moment, then asked, "What did he lose? What was taken away?"

"He can't talk. After a detailed physical examination, they discovered that his vocal cords are just...gone. I think the official story is that it's a birth defect."

Only a handful of people in the world would ever know differently.

Silence fell between them as they both became lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Al spoke up. "Brother...that dream you had. You said it was all your greatest wishes come true. So...why didn't you stay?"

Ed reached over and laid his hand on Al's arm. "Honestly? Because you didn't call me Brother."


End file.
